


Wicked Game

by Azzy_Darling



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzy_Darling/pseuds/Azzy_Darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel wants to be like his ender brother Arato (oc) and joins the army of Gondolin – but what happens to him there he was not ready for. (first posted 2004)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**

> I am uploading some really old stuff here to Ao3 just because I felt like it really. And this is one of those stories. Originally uploaded to my archive in 2011, but it's way older than that, I just don't remember how old, sometime around 2004 I think. 
> 
> Originally I made this for a challenge, but my plotbunny with this pairing ran amok. But it still turned out as a fic. Thanks to Bersa & L’L for the kind words. And ofcourse thanks to Miriel who betaed the first part, and  
> thanks to Lisbet who betaed the whole shebang!

 

// I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you  
I never dreamed that I'd loose somebody like  you//

 

”Glorfindel?”

”Glorfindel?”

”GLORFINDEL!”

The blond elf looked up lazily at the elf standing next to him. “What do you want, Arato?” he mumbled.

Arato squatted down next to Glorfindel on the grassy hill. “You must come eat with the rest of us, mother is worrying.” Glorfindel did not answer and Arato sighed. “Come now, little brother, do not waste your time here – I agree that Gondolin’s gardens are magnificent, but you must eat.”

Glorfindel sighed. “You are right, there is no need to worry mother and father.”

“No,” Arato whispered and ran a hand over Glorfindel’s golden hair. “Will you do me a favour, penneth?”

“Anything,” Glorfindel answered and turned his face to look directly into his brother’s.

“When I go back to the barracks, take care of mother?”

“Of course,” Glorfindel answered with a smile, and stood up.

“You will outgrow me soon,” Arato laughed and wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders.

“Aye, I will become a grand warrior some day,” Glorfindel said a-matter-of-factly.

Arato laughed wholeheartedly. “I’m sure you will, but first you need to eat, so you can get some flesh and muscles on those skinny legs of yours.”

Glorfindel just answered with an offended snort, and followed his brother home.

\--------------

**-months later-**

“Arato! Father!” Glorfindel yelled as he ran as fast as he could, clutching the parcel in his hand tightly. “They want me! They actually want me!”

“Hold on, little flower” Arato laughed as Glorfindel almost ran him down in his eagerness to get inside. “Who wants you?”

“The king, the king,” Glorfindel rambled.

“For what?” a female voice suddenly said.

Glorfindel looked up and saw his mother standing in the doorway with a deep frown. “The army, mother,” he said more calmly.

“Oh...” she sighed and looked away with badly hidden sadness. “So he wants you too, will he leave me none of my sons?”

“Oh, mother!” Glorfindel exclaimed and rolled his eyes. “This is what I...” he was stopped mid sentence by Arato, who gently pushed him backwards and took a step towards their mother.

“Please mother, no harm will come to him, do not fret so,” Arato said softly. “We are safe here in Gondolin.”

“For how long?” the mother said and looked up at Glorfindel with tears in her eyes. “Please, little flower, do not go. Stay here with me.”

Glorfindel bit his lip. Seeing his mother this disturbed made him uneasy. “Why can’t you be happy for me?” he finally croaked.

“There is nothing to be happy about,” their mother said and turned around and ran into the house.

“Mother!” Glorfindel yelled and ran after her.

She turned around and looked at her youngest. “You have the heart of a minstrel, not a warrior,” she whispered. “The army will be the death of you, body and spirit.”

Glorfindel looked down at the floor. “But I want to fight, I want to be able to defend our city.” He looked up at his mother and smiled a weary smile. “To defend you.”

“I don’t need to be defended, when my time comes, it comes, my son.” She turned around and walked to the kitchen where she absentminded grabbed some vegetables and started to peel them, not turning around to see if Glorfindel had followed her.

“These are times of peace for Gondolin,” Glorfindel said as he walked into the large kitchen. “And if makes you happy, I will sing the enemy to death when the time comes.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, but returned to her serious face quickly. “Do no jest about such serious matters, my son.”

“Mother, please listen to me. I want to do this. I have waited for this moment, waited to become old enough to follow Arato. Will you deny me this on some strange woman’s intuition?”

“Do NOT speak to me like that Glorfindel,” his mother hissed. “I have lived long, and seen much. You have not, so I will demand you listen to your elders for once, and take that head of yours out of the sky.”

“Honestly, mother,” Glorfindel whined. “It is not like I am going to battle or anything. I will learn to fight with wooden swords. I can't even cut myself on them; the worst possible scenario would be me getting a splinter!”

“Don’t fool yourself,” she said more calmly.

“Mother,” Glorfindel begged and walked over and wrapped his arms around her, “I promise I won't take on a dragon or a Balrog single-handedly if that makes you feel better.”

“Glorfindel, my little flower,” she cooed and kissed her son gently on the forehead. “I will leave this matter to be dealt with by your father. If he say you can go, then I will not object.”

_____________________

**-10 days later-**

When he finally left his parents' house, it was with a knapsack, and a grin that was impossible to wipe off his face. He was going! He was actually going!

“Glorfindel?” Arato said as they walked down past the main square in the city.

“Yes?” the young elf mumbled.

“You promise me to try your hardest, right?” Arato said and ruffled his brother's hair.

“Oh yes, I will earn my braids, I promise!” Glorfindel answered with a dreamy look.

“Just so you know, there is no shame in admitting that it is not your fate to fight.”

“Oh Arato, not you too,” Glorfindel whined. “I want to fight, and I promise you that I will take you on for a sparring before this year is over.”

“Is that so, little flower?” Arato laughed.

“Yes!” Glorfindel hissed and nearly stomped the ground in aggravation. “And I will win,” he added hotly.

“Relax, little brother,” Arato chuckled. “I believe you. You might be scrawny, but I have never known you to be a liar.”

“Good” Glorfindel said and relaxed slightly as he walked slowly towards the barracks of Gondolin, excited about what the future had in store for him, but at the same time glad Arato was with him. Change was a little scary after all, but he had a good feeling about this, and yes! He was sure he would be every inch the warrior that his brother was.

 

**\- 3 years later –**

The sky was blue, and all seemed peaceful. Glorfindel sat on his horse and smiled at the good fortune that they had this lovely weather for his first mission outside Gondolin itself. The others had tried to frighten him with stories of thunderstorms and wargs. But this was not what they had warned him about at all; this was wonderful. He felt so important, and most of all, grown up. He would come of age this year, and then… then… he thought to himself with a wide grin.

His musings were disturbed when their patrol met up with yet another patrol; he scanned the new elves. Arato! He was there. Glorfindel smiled at his brother, he knew he must be eager to return home. Last year he had bonded with Ëa, a beautiful elfmaiden, and they expected their firstborn within weeks. These were indeed glorious times.

Arato spurred his horse over to where his brother waited. “My favourite warrior,” he said with a loving gleam in his eyes. “They even gave you a real sword this time,” he teased.

“Arato,” Glorfindel sighed.

“I know, I know,” Arato chuckled. “Forgive me, Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin.”

“Asshole.”

“Baby.”

“Shit for brains.”

“Hold it!” a voice roared, and both elves clammed up on the spot.

“Forgive me,” they said in unison and looked up at the commanding captain.

“I guess you did not hear what was just said,” the captain smirked.

“No sir,” Arato said hesitantly and Glorfindel just blushed in shame.

“We shall ride west. The word is there is a another patrol there from Gondolin who needs our aid.”

“Yes sir,” they both said and glared at each other, trying not to burst out laughing at this absurd situation.

\--------------

Later they came to a halt close to where the patrol in need was said to be. The captain frowned when he did not see anybody. “All right,” he yelled, “we have to split up and search. There is not much daylight left, so make good use of it.”

And so Glorfindel went with his brother and two other elves. “Are you scared, little brother?” Arato suddenly whispered.

“No,” Glorfindel lied.

“You should be,” one of the other elves said.

“Why? These are times of peace,” Glorfindel said.

“It is only peace for as long as the enemy wants it to be, little flower,” Arato said and looked serious.

Suddenly one of the other elves slid from his horse and went over to a shrub at the edge of the forest. “Look!” he yelled and held something up –

Arato paled. “It is a part of a Gondolindrim uniform.”

“How did that get there?” Glorfindel whispered almost inaudibly.

“I do not know, little brother,” Arato said and looked at the two other elves. “We should ride and find the Captain.”

The elf on the ground nodded, but was unable to say a word before his throat was pierced by an arrow. “Go, Glorfindel, GO!” Arato screamed and drew his bow aiming for a foe he could not see.

“No” Glorfindel yelled, but drew his sword.

“I order you to…” Arato started but was brutally stopped when three arrows hit his chest and side. He widened his eyes and looked at Glorfindel. “Run…” he whispered and slid from his horse.

“Arato!” Glorfindel screamed and felt treacherous tears threaten to fall. No! This wasn’t happening! He must have been dazed because someone suddenly jerked his shoulder.

“Come, we must flee,” the remaining elf yelled. “Glorfindel, come we cannot do anything for your brother now.”

“No! He might still be alive. I would rather die myself than leave my brother here!” he hissed and shrugged his shoulder hard, so the other elf's hand was removed as Glorfindel slid from his horse.

“Suit yourself,” the elf said and spurred his horse, but only traveled a few meters before a new volley of arrows stopped him, and he too fell lifelessly from his horse.

Glorfindel rushed to his brother's side, and paid no attention to the newly dead elf. “Arato? Arato? Answer me,” he pleaded as he squatted down next to his brother.

“Sit still,” a voice commanded.

Glorfindel obeyed, but raised his head to see the intruding elf. He was tall and had soft features. Under different circumstances this elf would have been the most beautiful of sights. Dark hair flowed like a river down his back, neatly braided and knotted in the style of the house of Fëanor. “He’s but a child!” the elf yelled.

2 other elves came from the forest, looking curiously at Glorfindel. One of them came to his side, raised his sword and turned it so the tip rested against Glorfindel’s neck. “You are a brave little one, I must give you that,” the elf behind him said.

“Or stupid,” the first elf that had come from the forest said.

“Now answer me, little one,” the first elf said. “What is your name?”

“G-Glorfindel,” he stuttered, hating the way his voice was coming apart at this moment.

“Very well, Glorfindel of Gondolin, brave warrior or stupid child… I do not know, nor do I care,” the elf said and squatted down in front of the Glorfindel. “What I want to know is where is the entrance is to the secret realm of Gondolin?”

Glorfindel remained silent and bowed his head; he had given his oath to never reveal this.

“I can give you a clean death, a soldiers death,” the elf with the sword on his neck said.

“Or I can have the horses tear you slowly apart,” another elf said.

Glorfindel felt at loss, he did not want to die, but neither could he tell them. He looked at his hands that were trembling violently. This is not the time to break, he thought to himself.

“Maedhros!” a voice yelled. “Amrod, Amras! What are you doing?”

The elf who had been squatting down in front of Glorfindel spun around and looked up at the newly arrived elf who came out on a huge black horse. “Father,” he said softly and bowed in respect.

The elf on the horse slid down and frowned. “What are you thinking? He is but a child,” he chided.

“But he is from Gondolin, he can lead us there,” the elf who had now removed the sword answered.

“And since when have you gotten a straight answer from a frightened child, Amrod?” Fëanor said and tilted his head to look at his youngest sons.

“You are right, father.”

Glorfindel looked up on what appeared to be their father, this is... this is... his mind rambled, this is the kinslayer, this is Fëanor himself. He looked directly at the elder elf and opened his mouth to say something but not a word came out.

“Amras, take him with you on your horse and bring him to the camp,” Fëanor said and smiled at Glorfindel.

“Father?!” Amras whispered confusedly. “He is a prisoner, not a guest.”

“Just do as you’re told, child,” Fëanor roared.

Amras nodded and shot his twin a displeased glare. “Fëanor the merciful now, is it?” he mumbled as he hoisted Glorfindel to his feet. “Come then, little elf.”

\-----------------

They reached the noldo camp in the dark, and Fëanor jumped gracefully from his horse, looking at his sons. “Go and rest, we have a long day tomorrow,” he said and held out a hand to Glorfindel.

Glorfindel didn’t know what to do with the offered limb, but as Amras slammed an elbow in his stomach, he hesitantly reached a shaking hand to Fëanor’s larger one, letting himself be lifted from the horse. “Come, little one,” the elder elf said softly. “You must be hungry, am I right?”

Glorfindel nodded and followed the kinslayer. They walked through the camp and into a large tent.

“I know Lembas is not the most tasty, although it fills your stomach,” Fëanor chuckled. “Sit, brave Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel did as told and instantly sat down in a chair, not even daring to breathe. “So sweet and innocent,” Fëanor mumbled and handed Glorfindel a glass of wine. “Have you ever had wine?”

Glorfindel shook his head, not know what he should call Fëanor. "Oh, forgive me, I did not introduce myself properly. I am Lord Fëanor, and the other elves you met are three of my seven sons, the twins not being much older than you. They act with the rush of youth.” He smiled he raised the glass and looked at the red liquid inside. “The best wine Beleriand has to offer, and it is all ours to do with as we please.”

Fëanor sat down opposite Glorfindel and sat down his glass. “You see, I am in trouble,” he stated. “When I was younger I did some rash actions too, actions that cost me my home and title.”

Glorfindel finally found his voice and croaked, “I know my lord, and I read about Alqualondë.”

“Oh good...” Fëanor said and smiled. “Then there is no need to repeat that tedious tale.”

Glorfindel shook his head and took a sip of his wine; it was hard to understand that this elf was the mastermind behind all the evil he read about. His eyes were so warm, and so... sad?

“As you might have read then, I cannot return home, and I do not think that living like this,” he made a gesture with his hand around in the tent, “this nomad lifestyle is anything to give my sons. They need a home, and this...” he paused and smiled, “this is where you come into the picture, brave, brave little Glorfindel.”

“Me?” Glorfindel stared wide-eyed at the dark-haired lord. “How, why... I mean I cannot…”

“Oh yes you can,” Fëanor said with a warm smile. “All I need is a home. I am tired of living out here in the wild, where we never get a decent nights rest, afraid that we will be killed in our beds.” Fëanor stood up and walked around to Glorfindel, and placed a finger under the youth's chin, raising his head to look him directly in his eyes. “You have a home, do you not, young Glorfindel?”

“Aye,” Glorfindel whispered.

“Will you deny Amrod and Amras the same?” the dark-haired elf whispered back. “All I need is the location of the entrance to the valley where Gondolin is.”

“I can’t tell you,” Glorfindel whispered with a shaking voice.

“I need a home, and I am sure my dear nephew will give my sons just that,” Fëanor said softly while he traced Glorfindel’s jaw with a thumb.

“B-but…” Glorfindel stammered.

Fëanor squatted down and looked directly at Glorfindel. “You are Noldor, are you not?”

Glorfindel nodded and swallowed hard.

“And yet you are blond,” the dark-haired elf whispered and curled a lock of Glorfindel’s golden hair around his finger. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Rare, very rare indeed,” Fëanor mumbled.

“I never thought of that,” Glorfindel answered truthfully.

“You mean you have never been complimented on your rare beauty before?” the elder elf whispered seductively.

“No, never,” Glorfindel said and looked puzzled.

“Then let me be the first, you are indeed a very, very beautiful elf, Glorfindel.” Fëanor smiled and removed some golden strands from Glorfindel’s forehead.

Glorfindel felt his heart hammer away in his chest. What was this? Something he did not understand, but his body apparently did, much to his own embarrassment. “I… ehm… You… Are very pretty yourself my lord,” he finally managed to croak out.

“Thank you, young Glorfindel,” Fëanor said and ran a fingertip over the blond’s ear and smiled as he watched the young elf tremble beneath his touch. The impossibly blue eyes watched him in sheer wonder. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I don’t know…” Glorfindel stated, “you just look so...”

“Normal?”

“No, kind,” the young elf added.

“Well, despite what is said of me, I am a kind elf,” Fëanor whispered. “Have I hurt you yet? Have I not been anything but cruel to you?”

“You have treated me very well, Lord Fëanor,” Glorfindel whispered, leaning into the soothing touch of the elder elf.

“Do I frighten you?” he asked.

“....no,” Glorfindel said slowly.

“Good,” Fëanor whispered and leaned in and ever so gently kissed the full lips of the youth.

Glorfindel gasped in surprise and blinked rapidly as he tried to understand what had just happened. “What… why…” he breathed.

“You are a gem, Glorfindel. I would be but a fool if I denied that I lusted to kiss those sweet lips, or to run my hands over that perfect soft pale skin.” Fëanor purred and kissed Glorfindel once more; this time it was a much more demanding kiss.

Poor Glorfindel was at loss for words. He had been trained to withstand pressure from interrogations, but this was different; this made his heart beat faster and an odd sensation pool in his groin. It was nothing and yet everything like the dark fantasies he had given birth in his chamber at night. But the other elf had always been faceless, and never this breathtakingly beautiful. And so when Fëanor took his hand and began to guide him toward the primitive bed made of pillows and pelt, he made no objections. All he was wondering was when he was going to wake up from this odd dream.

Fëanor slowly undressed him, and ran his hands over the flushed skin, leaving Glorfindel breathless; he had never thought that it would feel like this. He had been warned about situations like this, but now that he was in one, it was so much harder to recognize. His musings were disturbed when Fëanor leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Glorfindel’s shoulder. “You are just as soft as you look,” he murmured, making the young elf blush to no end.

But as Fëanor’s kisses trailed downwards, Glorfindel froze. “P-please my lord, I have n-never...”

The dark-haired elf looked up with a wolfish grin. “Just relax, little one,” he whispered and ran his hands around Glorfindel’s waist to cup his behind. And for just a second the young Glorfindel was about to panic, but when he felt the soft lips ghosting over his erection, all thoughts of escape died.

Hearing the little muffled yelp from the young one, Fëanor smiled to himself and concentrated on the task at hand. He took the golden haired elf in his mouth, and much to Fëanor’s amusement it did not take Glorfindel long before he was trembling with unreleased need, and mumbling incoherently. He increased his speed and the young elf buckled beneath him, but the elder just tightened his grip, not letting Glorfindel squirm away, and when he finally spent himself, it must have been the sweetest sound the older elf ever heard. He slowly crawled up on the bed kissing his way up over the youth’s still trembling body. “Sweet, sweet little golden one,” he murmured, and smiled when Glorfindel opened his impossibly blue eyes, looking directly at him. “Do you still find me wicked?” he purred.

“No…” Glorfindel panted.

“Would you still find it wrong to show me the way to my nephew?” Fëanor purred even deeper.

“...”

Fëanor sighed and wrapped his arms around the young elf, resting his head on his shoulder. “I have a secret too, you know,” he whispered while he trailed lazy circles around Glorfindel’s nipple. “Would you like to learn of it?”

Glorfindel took a deep breath and relaxed against the older elf. “What must I do?”

“It is quite simple,” Fëanor whispered. “You have to promise me something.”

Glorfindel sighed, what was he to do? He was insanely curious to know what this secret could be, but he knew he had to tread carefully now. “This secret of yours,” he whispered back, “does it include me?”

“Very much so,” Fëanor whispered. “So? What is your answer, my young lover, will you give me your promise?”

Glorfindel closed his eyes and took a deep breath “Yes.”

Fëanor smiled predatorily and kissed the soft skin on Glorfindel’s neck. “I want you to promise you will stay with me here, for as long as I should wish, stay here by my side and in my bed.”

This confused Glorfindel beyond belief. “I promise,” he whispered, “now tell me of your secret.”

“Your brother,” Fëanor said and propped himself up on an elbow, looking at the confused youth.

“Arato?” Glorfindel gasped. “But he is... I-is”

“No, he is not,” Fëanor said with a warm smile. “He is alive, here in my healers tent.” The elder elf raised a brow. “For now.”

“Will you hurt him if I do not tell you the way to Gondolin?”

“What do you think,” Fëanor asked with a dark laugh. “You tell me... would I?”

“I don’t think so,” Glorfindel said a little timidly, as if he was not sure.

“Good,” Fëanor said smiling, and rested against the golden youth once more. “Now sleep, brave Glorfindel, and tomorrow I will take you to see your brother.”

“Thank you,” Glorfindel whispered and before he knew what was happening he curled up against the elder elf, relishing the body heat and the sound of another heart beating next to his.

 

Glorfindel squinted as he looked up at the sun, feeling the grass under his hands. He slowly sat up and watched the last homely house in the distance. It had been over 100 years since he had come here, and still his mind wandered off to ancient times. Sometimes he wished that Namo had removed his memories, wiped the slate clean. He could do without these bittersweet thoughts. But what he had done, and the memories of his first and only lover had returned to him, leaving him with fluttering heart and a black conscience. He had tried to tell himself that he could not have done anything different.

He had been but an instrument to play for the seasoned warrior, and Fëanor had known what he was doing. Had kept him in a daze of wine and sweet kisses for days and days, until he had done the unforgivable, he had told him- had told him how to find the secret valley.

Arato had been nursed back to health, and they had both been allowed to leave. That one action still puzzled Glorfindel to this day. It was clear that none of the sons had wanted to let their prisoners go. But Fëanor wanted it this way, and so they had obeyed. Glorfindel was not sure he had even wanted to leave, all he had wanted to do was to see Arato off, and curl up on the pelts in Fëanor’s tent and listen to tales from their motherland, and cherish the soft kisses bestowed to him once in a while. He was a pet, this he knew, but a well kept and well loved one.

But Arato had not wanted to leave without Glorfindel. They had argued and they had both ended up in tears. And even now it brought tears to Glorfindel’s eyes thinking of his brother’s unkind words.

“I am not leaving without you.”

This had been Glorfindel’s doom. He had tried to reason with his brother, still hiding his true intentions, but Arato had been relentless. In the end Glorfindel had begged and pleaded, but his brother had been unyielding, not giving one inch. He simply would not leave without Glorfindel. And he had cried, oh by the Valar he had cried bitter tears, trying to explain to Arato why he wanted to stay. But his reasoning had just made Arato sterner. He had been sure that some spell had been cast on his brother. Glorfindel had grabbed his brother and shaken him, sobbing in despair, begging him not to say so, or give him such ultimatums. For Glorfindel knew how much Arato wanted to see his wife and child. He had to go back to Gondolin, and in the end Arato had slapped his younger brother hard, leaving an angry red mark across Glorfindel’s cheek.

“You are coming with me, or we shall both stay here in misery. I leave the decision up to you.”

This had brought more tears to Glorfindel's eyes, and in the end he gave in.

“Yes, I will go with you to Gondolin,” he had whispered. These were the words he had regretted most in his life. He should have been less sensitive, and done what he had wanted for himself, yet he had not. He had thought of Ëa and her fatherless child, not of his own heart.

Arato had, despite his hard actions, not neglected to see his brother's despair, and wondered what might lie behind it, and so he had asked him. And Glorfindel had timidly told him. Told him that he had arrived a prisoner and would leave with a broken heart. Arato had slapped him again, and Glorfindel just sat there and let it happen. He knew it was wrong, but it did not feel wrong. Arato had wanted to know what he had told the kinslayer, and Glorfindel had told the truth. He had told about the hidden valley.

“Then you are the dooms man of Gondolin and its people,” Arato had said with a stern face.

Glorfindel had tried to explain Arato that it was not like he thought at all, that Fëanor just wanted a home. But Arato had laughed sarcastically and grabbed Glorfindel painfully hard. “Never tell a living soul what you have done here or what you have said – NEVER!” he had hissed. And Glorfindel had been so frightened and lost at that moment that he had not been able to do anything other than just reply with a vague hiccup.

So the next morning they had left. Arato had thanked Fëanor for nursing him back to health, and taking care of his brother. And Glorfindel had just stood there trying not to cry, feeling the smirks from Fëanor’s youngest, the twins. They were looking at him with amusement, and he could feel their mocking from behind him. Arato had seated himself on his horse, Glorfindel had to force himself to look up on Fëanor who stood there, next to one of his sons. The elder elf smiled and winked. And Glorfindel stood nailed to the ground dumbstruck. “Safe journey, brave Glorfindel,” he said and rested his hand over his heart in a respectful greeting.

Glorfindel had been about to answer when Arato had pulled him up behind him on the horse “I...I..” he started but sighed and dropped his head down, looking at the ground. “Goodbye my lord Fëanor.” He had wanted to say more, he had wanted to jump off the horse and run to bury himself in the soft tunic that his beloved was wearing, wanted to feel his hand run over his hair in soothing strokes, and wanted to hear the soft voice comfort him. Yet all he could muster was a return greeting, and a nervous smile. He leaned against Arato and tried to hide his sorrow, knowing that Arato had vowed to kill both him and Fëanor should he return to  
his bed.

When Arato had finally spurred the horse, Glorfindel looked up at Fëanor once more, and still to this day he was not sure if it had been tears he had seen lurking there under the long black eyelashes.

Still this many millennia after, he remembered every touch, kiss and sweet moan. He had loved Fëanor, yes he had. Even though he knew now, with a grown individual's insight, that the kinslayer had done nothing but use him, Glorfindel had not felt used - he had felt loved.

Glorfindel lay down in the grass once more and watched the clouds float by. Somehow he had found something inside the Noldor that he was sure Fëanor himself did not even know had existed there. For even though he had revealed the secret, the kinslayer had not used his knowledge, ever!

Glorfindel still remembered the day when Arato had told him that Fëanor and 5 of his sons had been killed in battle. The fire spirit had finally caught up with the fierce elf, he had said. But Glorfindel had excused himself and returned to his chamber where he now lived, and cried. He had cried for what seemed an eternity, and  little did he then know that the two remaining sons did not have second thoughts on selling their knowledge.

And so he had indeed been the dooms man for Gondolin and its people, and for himself. All for him and his treacherous and naive heart, all was lost. The city fell, Arato died, the high king died, and he himself had... had... deserved the Balrog.

_____________

“Lord Glorfindel?”

“My lord?”

Glorfindel opened his eyes and looked up at the dark-clad advisor of Elrond. “Oh, Lord Erestor, what brings you out here?”

“You did, Lord Glorfindel” Erestor answered and raised a brow. “You have been gone an awful long time, and Lord Elrond needs you to brief the patrol that is about to leave today.”

“Oh, I forgot” Glorfindel murmured and sat up, while he smiled disarmingly at Erestor.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing out here my lord?” Erestor asked timidly.

“Thinking, remembering.... my dear chief advisor,” Glorfindel said with a sad smile.

Erestor just nodded and Glorfindel slowly stood up. “Love,” he said softly, “I was thinking of love.”

“Oh…” Erestor said and looked at the horizon with an odd smile.

“Have you even been in love, lord Erestor?” Glorfindel asked.

“Yes, I have,” Erestor answered with a mysterious smile before he turned to Glorfindel. “Now come, we are needed in the last homely house.”

  
“You are righ.t” Glorfindel said and smiled back. Erestor in love? He wondered whom the gloomy advisors heart belonged to, but no apparent solution came to him. And he was in too much in a hurry to get back to his tasks that he never noticed the gleam in the dark-haired elf's eyes. Otherwise he would have noticed who had made his way into the reserved elf's heart. And it would have surprised him greatly, and warmed his heart. He had sworn back then never to tell a living soul about what he had done, or whom he had loved – Arato had wanted it that way, and still to this day he honoured this wish of his brother. But somehow this chief advisor of Elrond had crept into his dreams; one day perhaps he would say something. Once and for all chase those frightening shadows away, and let love and laughter be a part of his future, to lay the past to rest…  
  
Why it was now that these thoughts came to him he did not know, but suddenly he just took a hold of the advisor's hand, out of the corner of his eye he saw the startled elf blush furiously, and a smile crept to the golden-haired elf's lips. This time around it would be different.  
  
-the end-


End file.
